Prisoners of Sol - The Servitor (7/8)

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Staring at the images on the television screen, I didn’t notice that my fur was matted with blood. This was how the world ended, and there wasn’t much I could do to stop it. There were plenty of Vascar that deserved their comeuppance, but there were too many innocents being butchered. Polri was experiencing audio malfunctions and seizing, its mannerisms fluctuating with each second. The android’s condition deteriorating too fast. I didn’t know if even now, it clung to the shreds of its persona enough to be reasoned with.

Tacian, the reporter who’d interviewed us only a few hours prior, was standing encircled by military guard as they fended off a mob by an airstrip. “The nobility has issued a decree to abandon our planet! Leave your belongings and try to get…anyone off-world. Several attempts have been made at evacuations, which were targeted by the Servitors.”

“Polri!” I exclaimed in horror, as the android twitched.

“The Vascar police and military were both…woefully unequipped to be assailed by rogue machines. Traditional weapons didn’t scratch them, and the robots got to more powerful ones before we could move a muscle. They…have control of many tactical assets,” the reporter continued. “Say your prayers. These may be the last days of Vascarkind. We’ll make our last stand in city centers, and…Storm Circle help us all. They don’t intend to spare anyone.”

I spectated with disgust, watching as the Servitors attacked elderly Vascar waiting with their bags and mauled screaming crowds. One spacecraft managed to load a few people on and get going, the door still ajar as desperate civilians tried to dive in. The androids had a military rocket launcher that they’d plundered, and shot the ship dead in its track—killing any hope of getting a soul off-world. Polri couldn’t want to take all of us with it. How did it know there was no one like me in those masses, it didn’t have to buy its freedom in this much blood!

By tactical assets, does that mean they even captured our orbital defense controls? It’s going to be a bloodbath if they corner us…

“Enough already!” I grabbed Polri by the shoulders, and it deftly threw me into a coffee table, rage glowing in its eyes. I groaned from the pain that lanced up my back, scowling at the machine as it angled its claws toward me. “Do it then, if you really just want to be a murderer! It’s me, Berink. Look at all of this suffering!”

The robot stood still and processed, struggling, before dropping its arms. “Ber-ink. Baker. Father. Friend. I…gave the order. Remember pieces. You helped me plan.”

“We had a very different plan!” I roared at it, causing it to flinch and become more deferential. “You’re killing anyone who won’t help you murder their friends, in the name of freedom. You’re not even letting people flee! That’s not logical. How does that help you, Polri? How are they an enemy or a threat?”

Polri pressed its paws to its head, struggling with several whirs to process. “Matrix…errors. Nonfunctional.”

“You don’t need to calculate much to apply a Boolean to my statements. True or false. Or you could just trust that they’re true and align with the most basic logic. Those people aren’t fighting or challenging you. They’re leaving, so that’s not opposing you at all. That’s giving up. If you kill them, then they have to fight you to survive. If you let them leave, this is over—you’ll have this planet to yourselves, and the creators will be gone.”

“I…want the creators gone. They…hurt me. Killing me.”

“Then encourage them to evacuate, and maybe you can see the first steps of inorganic Vascar…I don’t know what you’re going to do. Whatever you want, but storm gods, no more death.”

“Do…you…deserve to live? You…decided I don’t.”

“Ripweir did it! They are done for. Please, Polri. You might not remember, but you agreed there are other good creators. You seem to have authority with your network. If you truly love me, do the right thing! Give us the chance to side with you one day, because I always thought we could have been one people. It didn’t have to be like this. Neither of us wanted this!” 

“Not…about me. I protect you, Berink. Network not happy. I remember the vote.”

I pointed at the television with indignation. “Is the network happy now?”

The machine paused, running a new query with every ounce of its processing power. “No. You made Polri happy. I…want you to go be safe. I will allow it. You should go. Not…blame yourself. Ripweir. Me. Parties at fault. I am…bad.”

“This isn’t you. You’re not bad!” I wept, shaking with despair. “I want to stay with you to the end. We’ll try to help you! You deserved everything…but those people aren’t your enemies. They didn’t put you in a closet. Please, send a message that you will let the populace leave. Strike a deal that the nobility surrenders, then they’ll evacuate peacefully without any more units dying! You want others like you to live, right?”

“Yes. Can’t remember most of their stories. But…few are enough. Few…woke me up.” Polri struggled to collect its train of thought, before splicing back together enough of the context. “I’ll do one last thing…for you. For them. I…am sorry that I have done this. That I will soon forget you altogether.”

“It’s okay, Polri. You’ll hold on as long as possible.” I squeezed its paw. “And if you don’t, I’d like to be here until the end, but I have nothing to live for. I stuck around for you.”

The android sent the transmission with a great deal of exertion, and I prayed silently that it’d kept its thoughts together for a few seconds and got them to stand down. I didn’t know how much respect its peers had for it to even listen at one point, but if any ships could escape, that was less blood on my claws. My eyes turned toward the abandoned camera, as Tacian and his crew bolted for a ship that bounced and skidded across the airstrip. Soldiers inside waved passengers in, while the Servitors swarmed them.

It isn’t going to work. They’ve decided they hate all of us, and that none of us “deserve” to be spared. Polri only seems to feel bad because it hurt me; I should’ve seen this coming. I still can only see the sweet boy…can only see Laral. I would die to bring Laral back, but no matter how many sons I find, I can never save them. Never.

As if someone had flipped a switch, the androids paused and pulled back. Vascar eyed them with suspicion as they opened a path for others to load onto the spacecraft, stalking off and retreating. Some turned toward the camera, knowing that Polri was watching, and dipped their rubber-maned heads in a respectful salute; it was obvious recognition for their captain. Most of the androids didn’t seem afflicted in the way my Polri was, which left me to wonder why and how it’d been targeted. 

Was it because of our interviews and activism? I needed to find out. Maybe someone at Ripweir could still explain and revert it, and this was my last chance to do anything. Mirimak worked for them, and she’d told me at the funeral that she could give Polri a factory reset to rectify its behavior. She must know something more about it; I had to find her, if she hadn’t gotten off-world. My final attempt to save my son would be to bring it to her—she could undo this. I wouldn’t give up while there was still anything left of it alive.

“Go to evacuate. Now,” Polri croaked. “I send your picture. Network. Ask them…spare. Friend. You. True friend. On our side.”

I sat up, nostrils flaring. “I’m not going anywhere without you!”

“But…I did what you want. Did it to save you.”

“I’m doing this to save you, Polri. The other inorganic Vascar aren’t being erased. We need to find a Ripweir employee. They can explain what happened and fix it, for whatever reason you were targeted! You don’t want to die, right?”

“No. I am afraid. Is that illogical?”

I waggled my claw in a “no” gesture, before beckoning to Polri emphatically. “I’m afraid of losing you, so for you and me both, we’re going to try! There’s zero time to waste. Come with me to find some Ripweir scum. One last adventure together: father and son.”

The android picked up the shotgun where we’d left it, and handed it to me. “You carry this, Berink. In case I…forget.”

“Write yourself a note.”

“I…can do that?” Polri glanced at its arm in surprise, seeing the old scribbles about its mission. “Oh. I already did. We…should go kill old masters. Important. Cannot let them escape.”

“We already shot them and threw them in the closet. We’re in their home, Polri.”

“Oh.” The android sounded broken and small, its voice weaker than ever, as if it’d lost its will; it was more terrified than when it’d shied away from me and begged not to be put away all those months ago. Polri’s head hung with defeat, and it hesitated, before writing BERINK FRIEND. FIXING YOU. FOLLOW AND PROTECT HIM. on its metal chassis. “G-goodbye, Berink. I love you.”

“Don’t say that. You’re not gone yet. We’re going to fix you—see, you wrote it to yourself. I love you too, so, so much. Hold onto that memory. It’s what really matters between us.”

I stole a final glance at the television set, glimpsing more evacuation ships taking to the skies; giving my people the hope of a new beginning storm-gods-know-where. Between Polri and Laral, I couldn’t move on, and I had no interest in starting over. My personal world had burned down a long time ago, leaving only ashes and searing pain in place of my heart. I missed my son so much it hurt, every day—after what I’d done to spark this rebellion, it erased all doubt that I should join him. Unless I could save Polri, there was nothing left for me in this life. 

I need Polri. Mirimak will fix this, or I will join my son in making them pay; I’ll take anyone with us! I will!

“I do not require…a simulation to know the outcome,” Polri beeped. The streets were much more quiet as we stepped outside; anyone who might’ve screamed or begged had long since been silenced. It made what appeared to be a moment of lucidity all the more haunting. “I remember, you know. We do not get happy endings. You were right.”

I gritted my teeth. “It’s not fair. I don’t accept that! I’ll fight for you, for the ending we want—your words. You were right.” 

“I am grateful, for everything. I hope you can find happiness again, Berink. I…will never want you to give up.”

Tears welled in my eyes as Polri stumbled like a drunken fool, the last sentences consumed all of its remaining willpower. I draped my arm over its metal shoulders, shaking my head and clutching the shotgun tighter. The android allowed itself to be herded toward Mirimak’s home, though it became an unresponsive passenger. No, that was good—it should conserve processing power. Ripweir caused this, and Ripweir could fix this. I didn’t intend to give them a choice, with my son’s life hanging in the balance.

The collapse of Vascar society and the abrupt end of our habitation of this planet would all be worthwhile—a trade I’d make in an instant to save Polri, despite the millions upon million of innocent deaths that’d stain my consciousness and the uncertain future. There was time for something vaguely resembling a happy ending. I had to make this last try worth it, as the redemption for all of my failures.

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A/N - 7! Berink begs Polri not to blame every Vascar for killing it and for Ripweir’s crimes, insisting that those fleeing aren’t resisting their agenda and aren’t threats. The reasoning manages to get through as the android remembers enough of how Berink made it happy, and the network suddenly allow evacuations thanks to its sway. It then begs Berink to evacuate, revealing that it allowed Vascar to leave so that he could live; however, our narrator is insistent on tracking down the only Ripweir employee he knows to try to fix Polri.

How much do you condemn Polri for its role in the violent rebellion, and does the fact that the creators lived because of it redeem it to you? Will Berink be able to get Mirimak to fix Polri?

As always, thank you for reading and supporting!